


Tidsresan

by enbyscitea



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Belonging, Found Family, Gen, Old Europe, Old Norse, Time Travel, VIKING TIMES, background gays, learning to care about other people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-24 10:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30070929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enbyscitea/pseuds/enbyscitea
Summary: An attempted murder goes awry - so far awry that young King Ezran finds himself, and his two protectors tossed into a different world, a different time, and they have to find themselves, make a family, and come together in order to find their way home.An excerpt - for your consideration:"Soren breathed a deep sigh of relief. But that was a mistake - 4 fingered hands found his throat and he heard Rayla’s accented voice in his ear, “What fresh hell has your sister” - she spat the word like it was rotten fish - “done now?”Soren gasped against the pressure on his throat and released his grip on Ez to scrabble against Rayla’s small strong hands. “I don’t know!” he managed though he sounded garbled, as though he was speaking through water.“Well, figure it out crown guard,” Rayla spat as she slowly relinquished her grip on his thick neck.“It would be easier to do that if I wasn’t being choked out,” Soren growled.“You wouldn’t have to be choked out if you weren’t related to literally every traitor in Katolis,” Rayla returned."PS the title is Swedish - for time travel
Relationships: Ezran & Rayla (The Dragon Prince), Ezran & Soren (The Dragon Prince), Rayla & Soren (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 12





	1. Flung Through Time

“Murder it is then,” Aravos purred into Claudia’s ear.

“There’s always another way, he’s just a child,” Claudia said as she poured over another volume of the dark mage’s book. 

“Interesting. You draw the line at murder,” Aravos noted, “But necromancy didn’t even make you blush.”

“Raising the dead is the exact opposite of murder,” Claudia said factually, eyes still roaming the foreign symbols that laced together all across the page. 

“Remind me again what it is that you desire,” Aravos said as his caterpillar-esque form slunk off of Claudia’s shoulder and onto the book to look into her dark eyes. 

Claudia clenched her teeth and then spoke in barely a whisper, “You know what I want. I want dark mages to have the respect they deserve, and I want my father in his rightful place. On the throne of Katolis. No one can lead like he can. Nothing should stand in his way. And yet everything does.” A single tear fell from Claudia’s eye and landed in the book. The foreign letters were magnified oddly through the saline liquid before it soaked in, leaving only a dark, damp spot behind. 

“Then you know what you must do,” Aravos said, “And I will not help you again until you do it. If you cannot then I cannot help you.” He began to fade into smoke as Claudia looked back at the book. She had seen Aravos turn to shadow more times than she could count, and she was almost certain that he was returning to her father’s cell in the dungeon, undoubtedly going to report on exactly what a disappointment both his children were.

Claudia sighed and closed the thick book. She had one shot to get rid of Ezran once and for all, before she did what Aravos demanded. But she couldn’t find the book. And she could never seem to catch Ezran on his own. Her own brother dogged her every footstep, when she stepped out of the kitchen with a jam tart for Ezran Soren was there. And he insisted on having the first bite of the tart. When she sat in the garden hoping to catch Ezran for a walk Soren was there. Something about him had changed when he had tried to kill the impression of their father. Something she didn’t like. He had become someone who placed duty and honor above family. And she couldn’t have that - she who had given up half her family to stay with him, and her family was dwindling. She bit her lip and shook her head - No - she knew better than to go down that path. She had her father. And she would do whatever he needed. 

She had one last chance to make sure that what he needed wasn’t murder. 

* * * * *

Ezran was trying to persuade Bait to eat something that was definitely a vegetable. It was green, leafy, and Bait was having none of it. Every time Bait stuck his tongue out and turned away Rayla laughed lightly from her post in the rafters. Ezran hadn’t asked her to look out for him like this. He had said he was fine with Soren as crown guard. And as formal as Soren looked in full uniform with the symbol of Katolis on his shield Rayla didn’t trust him. 

Even now, he was supposed to be guarding Ez and instead he was fixing his hair in the reflection of his sword blade. So maybe it wasn’t that Rayla didn’t trust him. Maybe she just thought he didn’t have two brain cells to rub together. But that amounted to the same thing: the King of Katolis needed real protection, a real look out so that he could remain alive and the king - the last hope for a united Xadia. 

Bait turned a sickly shade of green as Ezran offered him the vegetable again. Rayla rolled her eyes - at least the kid was funny. Then there was a sharp knock at the door and both Ez and Bait looked around in surprise. Soren gave them an affirming nod, and readied himself in position beside the door. 

Ezran cleared his throat, and in his best impression of a Kingly voice squeaked out, “Enter.” 

The door knob turned slowly and as it did a slight tinge of purple shadow seeped under the door. Rayla felt her gut clench as the door opened inward and Claudia, Soren’s dark mage sister, stood with her eyes solid black and locked on Ezran. 

Ezran to his credit stood his ground. Something he may not have managed a year or two prior. The hem of Claudia’s dress undulated as though it too was alive. Soren snapped his fingers in front of his sister’s face - there was no response. 

Rayla took her twin swords from their sheaths and looped them around the beam she stood on. She flung herself to the ground, with an inspired bounce and pirouette off of Ezran’s bed. Bait was no longer anywhere to be found but the vegetable lay on the floor beside Ez. 

Rayla landed firmly between Ez and Claudia. Soren stood between Rayla and Claudia. And still Claudia advanced. She wasn’t even hiding her intentions for the young king today. The fact that she hadn’t been locked up to rot with her father still raised the hair on the back of Rayla’s neck. But Ezran was a merciful king. And believed that children did not need to pay for the sins of their fathers. 

He was noble, Rayla thought, idealistic, exactly the sort of human she wanted brokering a peace with her people. But in this case he was also stupid. Claudia was a dark mage, all the energy radiating from her said so. All the purple smoke in Katolis was a cancer on the castle. And on Ezran. And now it was going to hurt Ez, Rayla could almost guarantee it. 

When Claudia opened her mouth words came out. But the language was nothing like anything Rayla had heard spoken in Xadia. It rose and fell in a single word and hit hard stops and smooth loops all in one sentence. It was both a song and it was so rough it needed to be sanded down before Rayla would ever want to hear it again. 

But nothing about the language mattered when Rayla realized the room was filling with purple smoke. The room looked and smelled like a firework had gone off. But there hadn’t been a bang yet. Soren swung his sword at his sister. Rayla raised her eyebrows - she hadn’t know he had it in him. But Claudia sidestepped, light as a feather. 

Rayla charged, swords swinging and Claudia just ducked and Rayla careened past. 

“Claudia, stop. As your King I order you,” Ezran began his voice clearly found after all. 

Claudia chuckled but did not break her chant. The vowels hung heavy in the air with the smoke. Claudia’s Rs rolled and her THs were soft. Rayla still couldn’t place the language. 

Suddenly she realized that Ezran was beginning to look faint. Not as though he would soon pass out - no - the boy was seeming to fade from existence. Rayla swung again at Claudia this time catching a single leg and knocking her off balance. Talons clattered out of her pockets and skittered across the floor. Rayla stood before the sprawled out Claudia. 

“Listen to your King human or you will find yourself in a cell,” Rayla said. 

Claudia’s eyes rolled back into her head, still a solid black. She reached for one of the many talons that had fallen and she snapped it in half. The whisper of the former creature escaped. And Claudia said with utmost clarity the word Naglfar before the room erupted in purple sparks and Rayla watched as smoke over took herself, Soren, and Ez as Claudia spun away from them. 

Or perhaps as they spun away from her, through both space and time. 

* * * * *

Soren opened his eyes to darkness. He immediately knew something was wrong but couldn’t tell what - it was hard to take a proper inventory of his surroundings in the pitch black. “King Ezran?” Soren asked hesitantly. 

“I’m here,” a muffled voice near Soren’s elbow said. Soren reached a hand down slowly and found Ezran’s shoulder.

He breathed a deep sigh of relief. But that was a mistake - 4 fingered hands found his throat and he heard Rayla’s accented voice in his ear, “What fresh hell has your sister” - she spat the word like it was rotten fish - “done now?” 

Soren gasped against the pressure on his throat and released his grip on Ez to scrabble against Rayla’s small strong hands. “I don’t know!” he managed though he sounded garbled, as though he was speaking through water. 

“Well, figure it out crown guard,” Rayla spat as she slowly relinquished her grip on his thick neck. 

“It would be easier to do that if I wasn’t being choked out,” Soren growled. 

“You wouldn’t have to be choked out if you weren’t related to literally every traitor in Katolis,” Rayla returned. 

“I have proven myself. Again and again. What more do you need from me?” Soren asked, hating the desperation that clung to every word he spoke. 

“Rayla. Soren. We need to put aside your difference and figure out what is happening. Why it is so dark. And where exactly Claudia has gone,” Ezran said, interrupting the fight as only the young King could. 

Rayla sighed and Soren felt the beginnings of shame settle into his gut. He had been goaded into another fight with the moonshadow elf. He had allowed himself to bicker while in service of the king. He hung his head and said, “Of course your majesty.” 

Ezran let out a chuckle, “Soren, it’s me. Ez. Remember?” 

“Ez, it’s me Soren, you’re the King remember?” Soren said falling back into the banter he and Ezran had spent many travels building up as they rebuilt the trust Soren had, at one point, thoroughly destroyed. 

“Hey ding dongs. Why is it dark?” Rayla interrupted. 

“How should we know?” Soren snapped back. “Can’t you see in the dark or something wonder elf?” 

“Just outlines. Nothing concrete. Where’s Bait, Ez? Can he do his thing?”

“Baiiiiiit,” Ez called. His small hands thumped along the base of the wall of the space they were in. There was no response and Ez called out again. And again his voice rose in pitch until finally he managed, “I don’t think he’s with us.” 

Soren felt his eyes flick around frantically, but unable to accomplish anything he began to mirror Ezran, touching the rough wall and knocking at it to try and find an escape. 

“Would the humans please stop thundering until we know where we are?” Rayla hissed. 

“Oh yeah because that was definitely the concern when you tried to choke me 5 minutes ago,” Soren quipped. 

“Guys,” Ez said flatly. But before he could finish his reprimand of his much older protectors a door into their darkness opened. 

A young man, about Soren’s age, opened the door. His hair was dark and braided back, away from his face. His skin was tan and marked with ink in places. A tree spanned the gap between his ear and his thick braid. He was wrapped in a thick fur and had a large wooden shield attached, by leather strap, to his arm. Behind the shield his chest was bare and an intricate snake eating its own tail seemed to cover his heart. His dark eyes were wary as he surveyed the Xadian newcomers. His hand never left the hilt of his sword that seemed nearly as long as his well muscled thigh. 

Soren swallowed thickly and stood to his full height so he could look the young man in the eyes. Unfortunately the newcomer had several inches on Soren and so Soren found himself eyes to nose with him as the other man stared at his hair. 

Soren was about to speak when Rayla charged from behind him her dual blades extended and pressed to the man’s throat with lightning speed. “Who are you? Who do you work for?” she exhaled huffily at the man who was caught off balance by the small light elf. 

“Jarl!” The man called loudly and suddenly, as his eyes rolled up into his head, “Stowaways.” 

“Stowaways?” Rayla asked. Then she looked to her left. “A boat? Why’re we on a bloody boat?” she sounded close to tears. Soren would have felt bad for her if she had shown him even an ounce of care. But she hadn’t, not ever, so he felt no obligation to sympathy for her apparent aversion to the sea. 

Before anyone could answer Rayla, or anyone with more sympathy than Soren could comfort her, a booming voice from elsewhere growled, “Dispose of them, Njáll. You know this.” 

The man with the dark braids, Njáll apparently, cleared his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbed just above Rayla’s blade. “Sir, you’re going to want to see these stowaways.” 

“I highly doubt that,” came Jarl’s rough response. 

“We’ve got an elf,” Njáll said as he quirked his eyebrows at Soren who felt his own jaw drop, and saw fear mirrored on Rayla’s face as the recognition set in.


	2. When in the World?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soren, Rayla, and Ezran meet some Vikings and start to realize exactly how far from home they may be. 
> 
> AKA a whole lotta exposition before FEELINGS time in the next chapter.

Slow and steady footsteps beat at half the speed of Soren’s accelerating heart. Whoever Jarl was it sounded like he weighed about 500 pounds and like Soren would be no match for him. So much for his job as crown guard. Ezran patted Soren’s arm. “It’ll be okay Soren! I can explain to them,” Ez said. 

Soren sighed. This small king was ever the optimist but he didn’t know how to tell him that they were almost certainly not anywhere near home. 

Finally the steps seemed closer and a surprisingly small man stepped into the room. Soren would have sighed in relief except the deference given to Jarl by Njáll had him terrified of the older man. Jarl came to Njáll’s shoulder, and in one fluid motion had snatched both of Rayla’s blades and tucked them into his belt. Rayla’s purple eyes grew large as she scampered back. 

“You weren’t kidding Njáll. This is new,” Jarl said leaning around him to survey Rayla. From this angle Soren took his chance to try and get a read on Jarl. The man was small, but muscles rippled with every movement. He was dressed simply, a light blue tunic, the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He was bald, his head shown in the faint light and a simple silver crown sat askew atop his spotted head. 

Njáll grinned, still looking at Soren, “Told you, Captain, still want me to dispose of them?” 

Jarl turned now to look at Soren and little Ez in earnest. And Soren was shocked to see a large scar on Jarl’s cheek. The 3 lines extended from his eyes to his jaw and then continued down his neck. His beard split around the scar and the lines were raised, thick and shiny. The rest of his beard was thick, red, and braided hair ending at another silver bead. 

Jarl snapped his fingers at Soren who seemed to have lost himself in his survey of the captain. Soren automatically defaulted to attention. His armor clinking into place. 

“Keep the large one. He may be useful.” 

Njáll nodded, and then swallowed, surveying Ezran. “And the small one sir?” 

Rayla leapt from behind with a hiss and wrapped her arms around Jarl’s throat. “You will not touch the King,” she hissed. 

Soren groaned, but Ezran was still wearing his golden crown. It was going to come up sooner or later. 

“I think, we shall spare them all,” Jarl said calmly as he shrugged Rayla off his shoulders in a smooth motion that tumbled her to the deck. 

“A good choice sir,” Njáll said. 

“I know,” Jarl said, raising an eyebrow in what was clearly a familiar gesture. “Bind them with rope and then bring them up. Saga will want to meet the elf.” 

Njáll nodded yet again and Ezran and Soren easily extended arms to be lightly bound. Rayla hissed angrily from her position on the ground. But Ezran gave her look and she sighed, allowing herself to be bound as well. Soren noted that for all of Njáll’s reverence for “the elf” he certainly tied her faster and tighter than he had the two humans. 

Njáll left the three Xadians tied together and pulled them forward, out into the full sun of the deck. Soren felt his jaw drop. This was like no boat he had ever been on. There were a good 40 people sitting on benches. Most were actively rowing, some were eating and others lounging. The front of the boat arched high above the deal and ended in the face of a dragon carved of wood. Soren looked beside him and saw Ez looking around with his mouth open. Ezran turned to Rayla and said, “This is so much better than the Villads’ boat!” 

Rayla shrugged half hearted and said, “Boats suck. Being bound sucks. Humans suck.”

Ez rolled his eyes at Soren, “Okay well I guess Rayla isn’t having a good time.”

Rayla took a heavy breath and said, “Sorry your majesty this wasn’t exactly how I saw my Saturday going.” 

Soren stifled a chuckle, no matter the predicament they were in he did not need Rayla to know that he thought she was funny. Njáll tugged the rope that bound them and led them past the rows of curious onlookers. Most were draped in furs, had swords strapped to their waists, wore their hair in braids, and had lines of ink sprawled across their body. Several sat comfortably with one another as friends, or maybe even lovers. Soren averted his eyes, trying hard not to stare at the two men feeding each other hard tack. 

Rayla seemed perfectly at ease with the displays of affection going on around them. And she held her horns high as the humans began to catch sight of her and stare. 

Njáll tugged the rope to keep the prisoners moving and Soren picked up his pace and cut down his observations of the crew. Soren had no idea where they were. There were no other elves on the boat - only humans in varying states of cleanliness. But none of the humans were culturally dressed for any of the kingdoms Soren knew of. And there weren’t any humans he knew of on the Xadian side of the border. 

The three followed Njáll to a hollow at the front of the boat. It seemed to serve as Jarl’s office. The short fiery man sat on a wooden bench beside two much taller women. Jarl gestured with his head and Ezran, Rayla, and Soren sat on the bench across from Jarl. 

“Stand guard, Njáll,” Jarl ordered, “You know how nosey the crew is.” 

“Yes sir,” Njáll said but then added, “But as part of the crew I resent that remark.”

Jarl and the women chuckled, “You know it’s true,” said the woman with shorter hair.

Njáll grinned an infectious and toothy smile through his dark beard and then stepped outside the hollow, hand on the hilt of his sword, just as it had been when he first found the Xadians. 

Jarl turned his piercing gaze onto the Xadians with focused intensity at Soren. “So who are you? And how did you get on our ship?”

Soren opened his mouth to speak, “Don’t answer him,” Rayla hissed. 

“Why not?” Soren asked. “We don’t seem to have the high ground here.”

Rayla growled, “Because we need to get back alive. And you talking doesn’t seem like the way to accomplish that.” 

Soren hung his head, she wasn’t wrong, but it still stung that all he was good for was brute strength. Jarl was watching the exchange between the older prisoners with a knowing look. He turned abruptly to Ezran, “I take it I should have addressed the person who is actually in charge.”

Ezran smiled, “King Ezran of Katolis,” he said. 

The long haired woman knit her eyebrows together and spoke slowly. “Where is Katolis?”

“Right by the lava border with Xadia?” Ezran said. Rayla hung her head in defeat now but Soren was relieved that all of this was being said. 

“Xadia?” the woman asked again. 

“Skadi,” Jarl said, addressing the long haired woman, and setting a hand patiently on her thigh, “there are many places in the 9 realms we have not been. Many things we have not seen. Let’s just listen to the boy.” 

Skadi sighed and leaned back. The scar that ran from her cheek bone and down her neck reminded Soren of Ezran’s Aunt Amaya, but this woman struck him as even fiercer than the Katolian General. Soren knew that you didn’t get a scar like that from reading books, you got a scar like that from battle. And he immediately decided that Skadi was the human here that he would trust - anyone to get sliced like that and survive must have gumption. 

“How did you end up on our ship, young King?” Jarl asked again. 

“Dark magic,” Ezran said simply. 

Skadi nodded sympathetically. 

“We really must return, I am in the midst of brokering a most important peace between my people and the magical beings of Xadia,” Ezran said. 

“The elf lives in your world?” the short haired woman asked. 

“My name is Rayla. You can stop calling me the elf,” Rayla said. 

“You are an elf though, no?” the woman asked. 

“Saga,” Jarl said, his tone still even and commanding, “We will be respectful of our visitors' wishes. Since we’ve chosen not to kill them.” 

“Yes sir,” Saga said and she hung her head slightly, her blonde hair flopping down over her green eyes. The motion reminded Soren of Callum, who was told off a lot back home. And also had the look of a bookworm on a battlefield. Soren felt his gut clench as he realized that wherever they were Callum was still at home in the castle, the only one left to face Claudia. 

“If you’re not going to kill us what are you planning to do with us?” Rayla asked. 

“Study you. Learn from you. Put you to work if you prove not to be a threat,” Jarl said casually. 

“What do you hope to learn from us Captain?” Ezran said diplomatically. 

Jarl leaned forward, “We want to learn what the world is. How many worlds exist? How close we are to Ragnarok? If my crew will be welcomed to Valhalla with open arms.”

“Captain,” Soren cleared his throat, “um, we don’t know most of those words. How do you mean for us to help?” 

Jarl gave Soren an appraising look. “Son, I imagine you are a fighter are you not?”

Soren nodded confused, “I am King Ezran’s crown guard.” 

“Then we can put you to work aboard our boat. You need not worry about the nature of the world Njáll can teach you how to be a Viking.” 

Njáll stuck his head around the corner, clearly having been eavesdropping, “The blond is to be my project?” he asked, looking Soren up and down and making Soren feel exposed, despite the armor he still wore. 

“Yes. The blond can,” Jarl began then he turned to Soren, “Did we ever get your name, crown guard?”he asked. 

Soren shook his head and said, “Soren.” 

“Soren, eh?” Jarl asked, “Good Viking name son. You sure you don’t know Valhalla? Ragnarök? The 9 realms?”

“I’m sure sir,” Soren said. 

“Very well, go on off with Njáll, he’ll teach you all about our boat.” 

Soren extended his bound hands and Jarl sliced the rope easily with a dagger he pulled from his boot. “Get him some furs first, we can’t have a knight in shining armor clunking around the boat,” Jarl called after Njáll and Soren. 

“Of course sir,” Njáll called back as Soren adjusted his Golden and white armor self-consciously. At least it wasn’t the ceremonial armor he thought to himself. This was the practical stuff. 

As Soren followed Njáll to the back of the boat he heard Rayla’s voice saying, “For the last time I’ve never heard of Alfheim. I hate boats and I would like to go home.” Soren laughed. Saga was never going to get any interesting information from Rayla. 

Before Njáll could open the door to a back room on the ship a small child, a little shorter than Ezran, approached Soren and knocked on his armor as though they were knocking on the door to his house. 

“Yes?” Soren said, looking down at the child. 

The child looked nervously to Njáll before shifting their deep brown eyes back to Soren. They wore their hair similarly to King Harrow and the recognition shot a pang of sadness directly to Soren’s heart. “Is. Is the kid with you nice?” the child asked softly. 

Njáll laughed softly, his chest tattoo rising and falling with his quickened breath, and then he answered the question first, “ Yes Trym, the kid seems nice. But show proper respect - rumor has it he’s a King.” 

Trym’s eyes grew wide as they looked back to Soren. “Really?” They asked. 

Soren nodded stoically, “His name is Ezran. Goes by Ez. He is the King of Katolis, I am his crown guard.” Then Soren dropped his voice and added, “He’s the nicest person I know. And he can talk to animals.” 

Trym raised their dark eyebrows, “Really?” they seemed skeptical. 

“Really,” Soren confirmed. 

Trym looked back to Njáll who shrugged and then beckoned Soren forward to the storage room. 

“At least Ez is gonna end up with a friend here,” Soren said morosely as he shrugged off his heavy chest play revealing a soft shirt underneath. 

“You could have friends here too,” Njáll said kindly from the door. 

Soren felt warmth spread from his heart to his extremities despite the cold of the wind, and the drafts in the room. He could have a friend. He had never really felt that before. He was always a means to an end in Katolis - a way to the king, a way to the high mage, or a dark mage. He was never seen for just him. And here he was stripping down to almost nothing in front of a man who clearly saw him as an equal, who knew nothing about him, and who was offering friendship despite all of that. Soren felt immediately grateful to have met someone with as gentle a soul as Njáll wherever it was that Claudia had spelled them to. 

Soren realized he hadn’t said anything at Njáll’s words and finally returned a crooked smile and said, “I’d like that.”


	3. Here Could Be Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Soren starts to find his way in a new place and Rayla revels in angst.
> 
> (General FYI this is not meant to be perfectly accurate to the period - I am more than willing to take notes though, just wanted you to know what you're getting into)

Soren tugged at the light fur draped over his T-shirt. It wasn’t cold exactly, but it wasn’t warm either. Njáll had told him where they were but it meant nothing to Soren. Njáll was lucky that Soren could remember that he was from Rome. The whole crew seemed to be from everywhere and anywhere. The only rule was that they didn’t fit in anywhere else. And honestly, Soren loved that for them. It was the same energy that had led Marcos charging into the Battle of the Storm Spire with a broken link on his banner. It was the exact group that Soren wanted to be a part of but that never felt like home. 

A light touch on his lower back brought him back to earth. Njáll smiled down at him and then sat beside him on the wooden bench. “Why are you up so early?” Njáll asked. 

“I could ask you the same,” Soren responded lightly. 

“I woke and saw you weren’t in your bunk,” Njáll shrugged and then added, “I worry about you.”

“Did the captain tell you to worry about me?” Soren asked, trying to keep the bitterness from his voice. As much as he loved most of the crew he had yet to get a comfortable read on Jarl. What could he say - he had issues with father figures.

Njáll shook his head, “Soren, you’ve been with us for weeks. If any of you were going to try something you would have by now. I worry about you.” Njáll placed his hand on Soren’s chest as he said it. And Soren felt his heart accelerate. What was it to be cared for like this? He didn’t know, or understand why Njáll cared about him. No one else ever had. What could this dark skinned Viking man see in him that was worth caring about? 

“Soren?” Njáll asked softly. 

Soren blinked, “I’m sorry. I’m just not used to being looked after. I’m the protector and all that.” 

“I think Ez might not need as much protecting as you think. He’s a great kid, strong sense of morals. But deep down, he’s got a fighting spirit,” Njáll said. 

Soren laughed, “Don’t let Ez hear you saying that. He wants no part in a fight. Unless he comes swooping in to save the day on a dragon.” 

“I have a million questions about where you are from,” Njáll said his forehead crinkled as he met Soren’s eyes. 

“I don’t know how to answer any of them. I just know that it was my life,” Soren said. 

“I don’t doubt any of it,” Njáll said, “I just can’t believe that there’s a world where Ezran rides dragons, where Rayla can fade into shadow, where you were,” Njáll paused awkwardly, but picked back up with a subtle nod from Soren, “where you were both out of place and in charge of the crown guard. I don’t understand how you’ve all been here for weeks and have made no real plans to go back.” 

“We just, it’s complicated,” Soren said. 

“I know I know. Your sister - the dark mage, and you don’t even know where here is. But Skadi is a mage and you haven’t even tried to consult with her.”

“No, it’s not that,” Soren said. 

“What do you mean?” Njáll asked, the sunrise reflecting at Soren in his golden brown eyes. 

Soren swallowed, “It’s that I don’t think I want to leave.” 

***** 

Soren spent time with everyone on the Viking ship. Njáll taught him how to row with a hearty laugh when Soren got off rhythm and clanked ores with Orvar who sat in front of him with a permanent scowl on his face. 

Skadi and Saga took him into markets with them. He was shocked to see both familiar fruits, breads, and desserts as well as places and animals he’d never considered. He asked Skadi on one excursion how she had come to be the mage on this particular boat and she just laughed and laughed. Finally Saga quieted her enough to tell Soren that Skadi had gotten herself kicked off of 3 separate Viking boats for seducing the captains’ wives. Skadi’s icy eyes shown when she finally managed to remark, “It’s not my fault I’m irresistible.” Soren laughed, and felt warm to be included in something with the two women. They held hands easily in front of him, as gentle with one another as they were when they thought they were alone on the ship. Soren took this to be an invitation to be a part of the family. 

Jarl even took to Soren, they sparred with swords up and down the main deck. Soren nearly always lost but found himself improving. He found that he wanted Jarl to be impressed and proud of him and he was. Jarl still assigned him extra ship chores when he lost, but it was with a steely smile, and the sun reflecting off his silver crown and bald scalp. 

Soren tried to continue his duty as crown guard but Trym had taken it upon themself to be glued to Ezran. Soren wanted to keep both kids safe, but more often than not their antics got him injured. He was the one tripping over benches, almost impaling himself, and as soon as Trym saw all chances of going unnoticed gone; they always let out a raucous peel of laughter that alerted the rest of the crew that Soren was in yet another predicament. 

It was only Rayla who seemed morose, isolated, and unwilling to become a meaningful part of the crew. Soren couldn’t understand why she wasn’t making the best of the situation and so he avoided her. He liked this branch of the world tree better. He liked being a regular person in a different world. It was all he wanted and he wouldn’t let Rayla spoil that for him. 

***** 

Rayla borrowed a whetstone from Saga. Saga sat on the wooden bench across from her and watched as Rayla sharpened her collapsible blades. Rayla was pointedly avoiding Saga’s sharp green eyes. She kept her purple eyes down turned, watching the sparks fly lightly off her blades. 

Saga asked yet another question of Rayla and Rayla sighed. 

“What is there waiting for you on your branch of the world tree? What is your story?” the short haired woman asked. 

“I know Soren has told you our story,” Rayla said with another sigh. 

“I am not asking for Soren’s story. I am asking for yours,” Saga said. 

“My story is the same. He is from my world.”

“No he’s not, he’s told me humans aren’t welcome in your part of the world. He has no place, no home that’s why he fits here. You have a different story, you’re not an outcast - you have something to return to,” Saga said. 

A single tear fell of Rayla’s eye. She watched it splatter on her flat blade and then she stood. She thrust the stone back at Saga. Rayla’s voice was ragged but she spoke, and she spoke with biting honesty, “How dare you say I am not an outcast. I am a ghost. Written out of the history of my people. I can walk through my own world, through the moonshadow elves and no one will see me. And I cannot see any of their faces. I have been thrown out for a crime I did not commit. I am the lone surviving assassin. Sent on a mission to kill King Ezran. Clearly I did not do so. And as such I no longer exist to my people. Do not presume to know me just because I do not like Soren who you have chosen to become infatuated with.” 

Saga stayed seated and watched Rayla with interest. But when Rayla accused her of infatuation Saga couldn’t keep from laughing. 

“My life is humorous to you?” Rayla asked, her voice pitching up sharply. 

“No no. Your life seems as unfortunate as your compatriots. I am laughing that you think I am infatuated with Soren. Are you really so blind to the life we are all living here?” Saga asked. 

Rayla blinked, “What do you mean?”

“Rayla. Everyone on this boat is gay,” Saga said. “We are the outcasts of our world. We made our own family. If you would let us in, if you would let yourself out. We could be something for you.” 

Rayla hesitated, “Then why do you like Soren?” 

Saga laughed, “Because I’ve never met a man so earnest, honest, and heartfelt. He truly cares for others, and truly believes in doing the right thing. That is rare.” 

“You would not say that if you knew him as I do,” Rayla said. “He once tried to kill the King.”

“Didn’t you just say you were supposed to kill the king?” Saga asked shortly. 

Rayla scoffed, “It’s different.” And then she turned on her heel and left Saga sitting confused on the dock. Rayla knew someday Saga would get an entire story out of her. Someday Saga would commit their entire story to memory and pass it down for generations. But it wasn’t today. Rayla was still holding onto too much distrust. Too much bitterness. How dare Saga imply that she had nothing. When her parents were trapped in coins, when her human boyfriend was alone with the darkest mage of their time. Why would she want to stay? There was nothing for her here. How dare Saga. 

Rayla sighed and leaned her head against the wall. She was so tired of being the only one looking out for her. She was so tired of being alone. Of being the only of anything. 

***** 

Trym held tight to Ez’s hand as they yanked him toward a small side street. “I promised I’d find jelly tarts and I did. I swear I did,” Trym called back as Ez bounced along behind them. 

“Okay okay. I believe you,” Ez said, grin on his face and his stomach growling in anticipation. 

They round a corner, hurried past a small stone building and stopped at a wooden stall. An old man stood behind a tray full of baked goods. Ez took one look and his mouth began to water. 

Trym smiled up at the man and in their best attempt at politeness asked for the price of two jelly tarts. 

The man frowned and said “Hamantaschen?” 

Trym shrugged and looked to Ez who nodded and pointed. The man provided an amount in terms Ezran did not understand. But Trym reached into their pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, varying shapes and sizes, clearly mismatched to various locations and said, “Close enough?” 

The man sighed and nodded and passed them 4 hamantaschen. Ez grinned and thanked him in a rush of breath and then crammed one of the triangular cookies into his mouth whole. 

“Whoa there,” Trym said, “we don’t get good food often. You have to savor it. Slow bites and really commit the flavors to memory.”

Ezran laughed, “Clearly you’ve never been around Bait. When he’s around you gotta eat often and quick otherwise your food disappears.”

“Bait?” Trym asked and then quickly supplied, “Your toad pet. Who glows?”

“Glow toad, but yeah, that’s him,” Ezran said, feeling a wave of sadness ball in his stomach with the crumbs of the cookie he had inhaled. 

“And you can really talk to him?” Trym asked, winding their way down the street back toward the Viking boat in the harbor. 

“Yes!” Ez said, “Just like I talk with birds. And all the dogs we see.” 

“Okay, okay,” Trym said with a laugh, “I’m just starting to really believe in magic. Skadi would be so pleased.”

“You didn’t used to believe in magic?” Ez asked as he brushed crumbs off his Viking tunic for the birds to come peck at. 

“I don’t think I did, no,” Trym said, “Skadi throws her rocks with the runes on them. But nothing really happens. But then you all show up. On our boat. In the ocean. And you’re just nice people. Friends - except that elf.”

“Rayla,” Ezran interjected, “She could be a friend too.”

“Sure,” Trym said with an eye roll, “if you want to get sliced in half. Anyway between all that and you and the animals. I think I really have to know that the world is bigger and different than I thought it was.” Trym to another bite of their tart. “And I love that dragons exist.”

“You would love Zym,” Ezran said with a grin as he felt worry curl into his chest as he thought about Claudia and Viren left in Katolis to try and broker a peace that they stood vehemently opposed to. 

***** 

“Soren?” Ezran said softly, his gentle foot plods had barely registered to Soren who was sitting on a bench above decks, long after most of the Vikings had gone to sleep. 

Soren turned his attention from the stars, so unlike his own, and yet still familiar, to the small King standing before him. “Yes Ez?” 

“Do you think Callum is okay?” Ez asked, holding a blanket close to his chest, his brown eyes full of worry, and his hair pushed to one side as though he’d just awoken from a nightmare. 

Soren was struck, as always, by just how young the King he was sworn to protect was. “I don’t know Ez. Did you have a bad dream?” Soren asked. 

Ezran nodded and then sighed, “I feel guilty all the time.” 

“What for? Have you been stealing tarts?” Soren teased with an easy smile. 

“No!” Ez said sharply, “Trym and I paid for those!” 

Soren laughed, doubting very much that Ezran’s small Viking friend had gathered coins through legal means. It was actually most likely that the birds who talked to Ezran had gifted him coins, which as Soren considered, he realized was actually completely legal. 

“I feel guilty that I’m happy,” Ezran finally said, his eyes far away looking out over the still foreign ocean. 

“I feel guilty for that too,” Soren said, having a hard time believing he was commiserating with a 10 year old. 

Ezran turned back to Soren, “I finally have a friend. Soren, in this timeline I’m just a kid.” 

Soren smiled back sadly, “I finally have friends too. And they trust me. And I feel like they have every reason too.” 

Ezran nodded and then said what had clearly been on his mind since he came up the stairs from the sleeping quarters. “If I knew for sure Callum was okay, that he and Aunt Amaya were in charge I would stay. I would happily stay here.” He hung his head like he was embarrassed. 

“Me too, Ez,” Soren said. “I want to stay here so badly I can feel it in my bones. But I ache when I think about home too.” Soren leaned back on the bench and looked up at the stars once again, “I think it’s an either or situation though. We can’t have both.” 

“Maybe Skadi can cast runes and tell us what’s going on back home. If we are all connected,” Ez said finally. 

“You know Ez, that’s a good idea. I’ll ask her tomorrow. Then we can make a choice, some day,” Soren said lightly. Soren’s own guilt was settling heavy into his gut as he thought about what he hoped Skadi would say. 

***** 

Hours after Ezran had fallen asleep on his bunk Soren was still laying awake. His crown guard instincts tickled him that something was wrong but he couldn’t place what. Nor could he see in the below decks bunk room. A soft thud as someone sat themself at the foot of the bunk set his nerves on fire. 

Soren cleared his throat, “Hello?”

“My turn for night time above decks talks with Soren yet?” Rayla’s voice whispered. 

Soren sighed, “Does it have to be tonight? I’ve already been up with Ez.”

“I know,” Rayla drawled, “Why do you think I’m here? I want to be included. I want to be a part of what is being decided. I’m one of you whether you like it or not.”

Soren paused, it was odd, he thought, to hear a Xadian elf include herself with humans. It was also odd that she was so adamant to be on his side, that she thought there were sides here at all, when she could have been worshipped by the vikings and he and Ez could be happy. And have friends. Finally Soren spoke, “Okay. Let’s go up and talk.”

Rayla lifted herself off his bunk and was at the door faster than he would have thought possible. The door cracked open to allow his human eyes the light of the stars to navigate past sleeping vikings. 

Once they had left the bunkroom Soren gave an animated stretch. He was never going to catch up on sleep. Rayla was already at the top of the stairs looking down at him. He hurried to catch up, wondering what whoever sat at the helm thought of Soren’s frequent visits to the deck in the middle of the night. He pushed the thought aside and turned to Rayla, “Okay so what do you want to talk about?” It came out harsher than he had meant it, but he didn’t apologize. She had dragged him out of bed at o’dark thirty after all. 

“The plan,” Rayla said matter of factly. “I want to know how we’re going home.”

Soren gulped, “And what if there isn’t one?”

“Then we make one.”

“And are you the magical being we’re going to suck power from to do the dark magic to get back?” Soren asked, ice creeping into his voice. 

“You can wring me dry if you must. Katolis must have a king,” Rayla said. 

“You’re serious,” Soren observed.

“Of course,” Rayla said. “I’ve had many jobs, assassin, dragon guard, small boy king guard and I take them all seriously. If my death is what it takes…”

Soren rolled his eyes, “Really? You’d rather die than just stay here? You can be small boy king guard here.”

“That doesn’t protect Xadia,” Rayla said, “Ezran is important and he needs to go home.”

“Ezran is a child who has quite literally made his first friend,” Soren said, feeling exasperated. 

“His only family is in another world. He belongs with them.”

“We could be his family,” Soren said, fully aware of the desperation in his voice.

“Word of advice,” came the slow even drawl of Jarl, who neither Rayla, nor Soren had heard leave his place at the helm, “have the argument you actually mean to be having. And don’t use Ezran as a shield.”

He then slowly walked to the front of the boat and stared out over open water. The stars reflected off his gleaming scalp. 

Soren sighed again and turned to Rayla, “I want to stay,” he said. 

“I know,” Rayla said. 

“I want to go back to Xadia,” Rayla said.

“I know,” Soren returned.

They stood in uncomfortable silence after that. Soren tried to stand tall, stand firm in having finally spoken aloud his desire. Finally, when he realized that Rayla was standing just as firm as he was, he spoke, “Rock, paper, scissors then?” he asked, trying to break the tension.

“What?” Rayla asked, completely lost.

“Oh. It’s a human game,” Soren realized, “Nevermind.”

“A game?” Rayla asked, her confusion growing. 

“A way to figure out who gets to make a choice. Like flipping a coin,” Soren offered. 

Rayla nodded, “So you would leave our future up to chance?”

Soren shrugged, “Why not? That’s how my future has always been for me.”


End file.
